


"How did you die?"

by Mumblings_Of_A_Dreamer



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Death, Gen, Implied divorce, M/M, One Shot, Open to Interpretation, Short One Shot, Transphobia, mentioned transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mumblings_Of_A_Dreamer/pseuds/Mumblings_Of_A_Dreamer
Summary: Annabel is just a seven year old child trying to understand the world, and the secretive adults who surround her.Virgil is just someone doing his best in the new home that was offered to him.Family is complicated. Death even more so.In a house of riddles, how can these questions be answered?This is vague and has no context, speculate as you please.





	"How did you die?"

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea where this came from or what it is. This scene came to me like a dream with no context, and possessed me until I wrote it down. Feel free to interpret it as you wish, and theorize as you please.

Annabel pulled herself up to sit on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. It took a moment of struggle, as a seven year old was only so tall, but she managed. Once she was content leaning against the counter, swinging her legs and setting her cheek in her hand, the young child turned her focus on her uncle, who was busy cleaning up after dinner. Well, she knew he wasn’t really her uncle, but he was close enough to one, so that was what she called him. In a lot of ways, he was better than her “real” uncle, but she knew what Mama would say if she said that outloud.

The dishes clinked as the man turned off the water and began drying them off. Annabel eyed the thin white scars on his tan skin. Mama said they were signs of weakness, so he must have been very strong. Mama enjoyed speaking in riddles that made Annabel’s uncle smile and roll his eyes when he thought Mama wasn’t looking. Her uncle didn’t smile very often, so Annabel liked the riddles, even though they made her head hurt sometimes. Dad said the riddles were actually something called “lies” but Mama said “lies” were just riddles that Dad didn’t know how to solve. Dad didn’t live with them in the cabin anymore.

The man who was sort of her new uncle started humming as he worked. Annabel didn’t know what the song was, but something about it sounded old to her. Not bad old, like that boring music without lyrics that Dad listened to sometimes, but old like spooky and special. Her “real” uncle sang when he was excited and when he was stressed. Dad hated singing. But when Mama sang it meant Mama was relaxed, and that was the best time to ask questions. Her uncle was like Mama in a lot of ways. She wondered if her uncle would like questions. Annabel liked questions, and there was one she wanted most. 

“Hey, Uncle Virgil?” Annabel didn’t like names very much. But Mama taught her that names were power, and Annabel really wanted this question answered. And she would need all her power to get that answer. The man, Virgil, Superior Uncle, didn’t turn to look at her as he stretched up to put away some dishes in a cabinet.

“Hmm?” Annabel wasn’t upset by the lack of words. Her uncle didn’t speak much unless asked, and she hadn’t asked her question yet.

“How did you die?” A bowl slipped from his hand, but he caught it again before it broke. Mama said Uncle was clumsy and never caught things when he knocked them over in his panic, so Annabel wasn’t worried. Her uncle turned to look at her. His eyes seemed more surprised than sad, which she saw as a good sign. People normally got sad when other people die, but sad Uncles didn’t answer questions. 

“Who says I’ve died?” Annabel pouted before she could stop herself. She used to like questions because they were always honest, then Mama taught her about riddle questions. Riddle questions weren’t answers. 

“My “Uncle” Roman said you were a corpse Mama dragged home from out of a graveyard. I thought he was telling a riddle, but you have a lot of scars, and he doesn’t tell riddles like Mama does.” She felt the need to put uncle in quote marks, so it matched how real he felt to her. He was Dad’s brother, and nothing about Dad felt real after he left. Her Uncle half smiled at the movement, and she was happy he agreed. 

“Well, I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I’m not surprised that’s how Roman put it, he seems the type.” The child frowned. She didn’t know her uncles had met.

“So, if you’re a corpse, how did you die?” Her uncle laughed in that quiet way that was unique to him. Dad didn’t like laughing, unless he was doing it to prove a point. It was never a fun point. Mama did something that her uncle called “cackling” which confused Annabel. “Cackling” sounded scary and wrong, which didn’t connect to the happy sound Mama made. Her “real” uncle’s laugh was bold and loud. 

“Hmm, let’s see. I suppose it started when I was forced to realize that humans are weirdly strict when it comes to genders.” Annabel blinked and sat up. She wasn’t expecting a story. Her uncle never seemed like the story type. He had changed a lot, in the time that had passed since he moved into the cabin with her and Mama. It was possible he actually liked telling stories. She hoped he liked stories.

“Genders? Like how Uncle Roman thought it was weird when he heard me call Mama by his title that first time?” Her uncle got a soft look in his eyes that she had not seen before. It was nice, and coupled with his smile. It looked a lot like Mama’s, but smaller. Then again, it was hard to find a smile as big as Mama’s.

“Yeah, humans normally associate “Mama” with she/her pronouns. Not all humans, of course. Some humans are good, and kind, and they live life how they are meant to.” She wasn’t sure what “associate” meant. Her formal vocabulary lessons stopped when Dad left, but she still had some dictionaries lying around. She’d figure it out later. 

“Did you know any good humans who were like you?” He laughed. She wasn’t sure why.

“No, there weren’t any humans like me back then. If there were any good ones, I didn’t meet them. At the time, I looked like someone with she/her pronouns. They didn’t like those people, for some reason. I don’t remember why. It’s possible that there wasn’t a reason at all. Anyway, they didn’t like that I was a “girl” and they liked it even less when I tried to tell them I was a man.” Her uncle’s voice was deep, and his shoulders were wide. She thought she knew what humans believed he/him people were supposed to look like. It was possible she had gotten them mixed up. Or maybe it was a riddle. She had assumed humans hated riddles, since Dad and his brother hated them. Maybe it was possible some humans told riddles.

“Did they kill you for it?” Her uncle’s smile changed. It looked like what her “real” uncle called Mama’s evil smirk. The smile Mama had when he was about to say something very clever that he was proud of. Or the smile that led to a very tricky riddle. Sometimes they were the same thing. 

“No, someone tried to hurt me and I killed them first. Then the humans killed me.” Annabel’s eyes went wide. Her uncle turned back to finish the dishes. She wasn’t sure if that was a riddle or not. 

She’d figure it out later.


End file.
